"Wow, surprise, surprise, the shady bartender has a secret he needs to tell us, who would have thought?" said Emila with a tone that said she was upset, and not in the mood.
I matched her tone as I replied. "My full name is John Conrad Constantine, and I am from the lost race of Nekrotafieons. I'm on a quest to kill my brother, who is the only other Nekroptafieon left in existence. I needed a team, I needed you guys because when you entered my bar I knew you had what it takes."
"And what the hell makes you think we are willing to help you?"
"Because Zac feels something off about this place, doesn't he? And my bar as well?"
"How did you know that" Zac pitched in " I haven't told anyone that yet!"
"It's my brother, watching this place, she sent goblins here, these are my springs and I've been trying to get them back for ages now"
"How long is 'ages' exactly?"
"119 years to be exact"
Now it was Emilias turn to pitch in again "Jesus, how old are you???"
"1600 years to the date, I'm purely immortal, unkillable, something I stole from my mother in our last and final..well let's call it a dispute"
"How did you steal someone's immortality??"
"Nekrotafieon magic, but that's beside the point, my brother is still very powerful, and we need to deal with him now before we lose the chance
"If he's so powerful who says we can kill her anyway?"
"Of course we can, with something like this.." I then pulled out a new kind of weapon, my design of course. The weapon was a near-perfect item, she shined like nothing you've ever seen before. It looked like a rifle, and it was. The rifle was made with an infinite clip because it ran off of magic drawn from the user's body. It had a long black barrel, made of Nekrotafieon carbon fiber. It seemed to glow faintly red at times, and just being near it made the room seem to tense up. 2.5 pounds of pressure is all it takes to pull the trigger, making it usable by both the healthy and the injured. It seemed to fit anyone's hands just about perfectly, and always had a faint feeling of warmth. There was a small slot in the corner of the barrel, seemingly for some sort of contained item, a soul. I put the goblin leader's soul into the corner of the barrel, cocked the gun back, and aimed down the scope, it was clear as day. By this point everyone had been staring at me in awe for quite some time now, carefully assessing what I've been doing. It was to be expected, and yet, somehow I still didn't know what I was going to say next. I've just thrown these people into an over 100-century feud and expected them to help me. Would they help me? Only one way to find out, and so I asked... "So, will any of you help me?" Everyone looked around at one another, I could never even begin to imagine what everyone must have been thinking at that moment. I know it was way too much to ask of a gang who just so happened to walk into my bar, but what other choice did I have? All I could do was wait, and let them think.